APRIL 1994

We were at the Murder House again, back there again since Constance fucked her way back. In the monthes following the never-spoken of fire, as I bore witness to the cunt-struck idiocy that was Larry Harvey, I'd begun to theorize that maybe he was more to blame than any of us thought, but the police reports still ruled it a suicide. And now the Langdons were back in the house, and we all got to play family.

It was fucking stupid, for lack of a better word. Constance was having a "family dinner" for the new… partnership between her and Larry. It was grossly macabre that she set the date for two monthes after the date on which the aforementioned sick bastard murdered Beau in his room, but Tate didn't want to deal with the whole scene alone. (And it seemed Constance was planning to drag everyone into a family dinner every Sunday for the rest of our lives.)

So here we were sitting around the dining room table: Larry at the head like he could call himself anyone's father, Addie to his left, an empty seat for Constance across from her lover, then Tate and I sharing the final side.

No one had said anything the entire time we'd been at the table, because Constance was in the kitchen, so things were a little tense.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the whore of Babylon stated as she walked into the room with what seemed to be half a dead pig. "The ham."

"Ah, that looks lovely," Larry commented from beside me. I had to fight the urge to scoff at him, opting instead to just tighten my grip on Tate's hand.

Constance grinned her million-dollar smile at him, setting the platter down before asking who wanted to say grace. Again, I fought the urge to scoff; she was fine with killing her own child, but Lord help her if she didn't bless the food.

Her perfect demeanor dropped a bit when Tate volunteered for the job with an eager "Mother, may I?" I shot Addie a wide-eyed look across the table as she grinned mischievously back. Larry, however, was unaware that there was anything strange going on.

"Well, of course, son," he smiled warmly at Tate. "I was hoping you would choose to become a part of this family… I look forward to getting to know you and Freyja both."

I did scoff at that, receiving a glare from Constance as Tate began his 'blessing.'

"Dear God," he dead-panned. "Thank you for the salty pig meat we are about to eat, along with the rest of the indigestible swill. And thank you for our new charade of a family. My father ran away when I was only six. If I'd have known any better, I would have joined him. And also, because she's been trying to get back into this house ever since she lost it, Lord, a big thank you for blinding the asshole that's doing my mother, so that he can't see what everybody knows. She doesn't really love him."

"Amen," Addie and I laughed at the same time, Tate smiling across the table at her before kissing my cheek briefly.

The adults were less than pleased with us, as Larry's smile quickly turned into a face of displeasure.

"Now Tate," he stated in a 'parental' voice. "I know that you've had a hard time making the adjustment with all the recent changes. Moving back in here after the… the tragedy that my own family went through-"

"They burned themselves alive after you were cheating on your wife with Constance, Lawrence."

I winced at this. It was true, of course, but not exactly dinner talk.

"It's nobody's fault," Larry stuttered out, fear permeating through his eyes. "Passion drove her to it. One day you'll understand that there are sacrifices you have to make in the name of love; one day very soon, I should imagine, as you and Freyja seem to be getting serious."

I was shocked. When did my relationship become part of the conversation? Before I could even ask, Larry was talking again.

"On a lighter note, I have reserved tickets for everybody for Saturday at our community theatre for the opening night of Brigadoon," he smiled. "I'm delighted to be debuting in the chorus."

"Really?" I muttered to Tate. "Expecting a big crowd for that one?"

"Well, I for one shall be there with bells on," Constance stated with another glare towards Tate and I.

"Thank you, darling, for being so supportive and encouraging," Larry grinned. "You have allowed me to explore another facet of myself."

Another facet of himself? Adulterer, arsonist, murderer? Great qualities, I thought with an eyeroll.

"Yay!" Addie suddenly exclaimed from across the table. "I love the theatre."

"No, Addie!" Tate practically screamed, slamming his fist down to break the plate beneath it. I jumped a t his outburst, grabbing hold of his arm in an attempt to calm him. "You're a smart girl; you know he killed our brother!"

"Stop it!" Constance injected finally, looking far more horrified than I figured she felt. "Beau died in his slumber of natural causes. Now you know he had a respiratory ailment. Your brother's in a better place! He suffered with every breath that he took!"

"He only suffered because of you!" he screamed again, this time with tears in his eyes.

"You know, Tate," his mother spoke firmly now. "Unlike your siblings, you were graced with so many gifts. How is it that you can't bring yourself to use them? Just a smile, or a kind word, could open the gates to heaven."

She glanced at me as she spoke that last sentence. Constance Langdon never missed a chance to make me feel inadequate about dating her 'beautiful boy,' that's for damn sure. She'd hated me from day one, and she still hated me on day… four-hundred or whatever.

Tate glared at her in one of those ways that can only be described as 'if looks could kill.' Then he grabbed my hand in his again, leaning in to speak lowly to his mother.

"No matter how much you want it," he muttered. "I will never be your perfect son."

And with that, he was stomping out of the room, pulling me after as he went.

"It's fucking disgusting," Tate shouted suddenly, slamming his fists repeatedly into his desk.

I jumped at the sudden sound; he'd always been moody but I'd never before been able to categorize him as violent until then. And he was shaking again, something he'd been doing since we made up the week before – small tremors wracking his body at random moments.

"Babe, please" I intoned slowly from my place sitting on his bed. "Just sit down for a minute, okay? You're freaking out over this. It's just Constance; this is who she is."

"But that guy had kids, Freyja!" he was basically screaming now, his face turning reddened as he paced. "She screwed up a family now, not just some random dick off the street. She's ruined their family just like she ruined her own! Goddamn it!"

"Tate…" I pleaded now, standing in his way so he stopped the goddamn back-and-forth across the room. "It's going to be okay."

He stared deeply at me, half-way to hyperventilating as he did so. He looked so serious compared to the day we'd met – his angelic features were clouded with something I couldn't place. It was like a mix of fear and rage and confusion all at once. I thought for half a moment that he might just be done with the topic, but then he continued in a quiet voice.

"She hit Addie again the other day."

I gasped, a genuine and real gasp, as it felt like my heart stopped. She was horrible. She was a horrible fucking monster who not only beat her own children, but she was a monster who preyed on the weakest of them, the ones who loved her the most. At the look of pure horror on my face, Tate pulled me into a tight embrace. I didn't even realize I was crying until my tears coated his dark shirt.

We stood there in silence for a few minutes, him crying into my hair as well now, until I gained the breath to speak.

"Let's leave," I muttered into his shoulder.

"What?" he sniffed, pulling back a bit to look me in the eyes and see if I was serious. I was.

"Let's leave," I repeated. "Tate, c'mon, please. Let's just go."

His eyes revealed his confusion as he kept staring at me. If anyone in this relationship was going to orchestrate an elaborate escape, I don't think either of us expected it to be me.

"We can't, Frey," he stated finally, almost laughing at the emphatic look on my face. "We certainly can't leave Addie with her now."

"So we'll take her with us!" I half-shouted now. There were a lot of loud volumes in this conversation. "Or we'll come back when we have another place to stay. You can't stay here with her. Let's just leave; we'll go to Chicago or New York or somewhere that isn't here. Seattle maybe – go lay flowers out for Kurt, light a candle for him. We can get away from here like we always talk about."

"No," he forced out after another quiet moment. "We cannot do that right now. I don't want to do anything else but go those places with you, but to go everywhere with you… but we're kids, Freyja. We wouldn't make it over a state line before we got caught, then we'd never be able to be together again. We can't just leave. But I have a plan."

I was crying again by the time he finished speaking. Because of course he was right. Two teenagers can't go wandering off into the sunset, certainly not while taking care of two less-than-abled adults.

As it turns out, two teenagers can't go wandering off into the sunset at all.

But that was something I'd learn with time. When I walked home that warm night in April, I still thought maybe there was a cliché sunset scene waiting for Tate and I somewhere far off in the future.

Chapter Title: Foolish - Superchunk - released April 1994